Romeo.
Indeed I should have ask'd you that before.

Servant.
Now I'll tell you without asking: my master is the great
rich Capulet; and if you be not of the house of Montagues,
I pray, come and crush a cup of wine. Rest you merry!

[Exit.]

Benvolio.
At this same ancient feast of Capulet's
Sups the fair Rosaline whom thou so lov'st;
With all the admired beauties of Verona.
Go thither; and, with unattainted eye,
Compare her face with some that I shall show,
And I will make thee think thy swan a crow.

Romeo.
When the devout religion of mine eye
Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fires;
And these,--who, often drown'd, could never die,--
Transparent heretics, be burnt for liars!
One fairer than my love? the all-seeing sun
Ne'er saw her match since first the world begun.

Benvolio.
Tut, you saw her fair, none else being by,
Herself pois'd with herself in either eye: